Even Angels Fall
by voldiesheadgirl
Summary: Occurs during an AU OotP. Harry is led toward the dark by the wizard who should be his enemy. Main pairing: VoldemortHarry.
1. Chapter 1

Title: Even Angels Fall

Author: Head Girl

Pairing: Voldemort/Harry

Rating: eventual M

Summary: Occurs during an AU OotP. Harry is led toward the dark by the wizard who should be his enemy.

A/N: The story begins during the scene in the Department of Mysteries.

**Part One**

Amid the sound of breaking glass, Harry and his friends fled, dodging the orbs that fell from the teetering shelves that toppled noisily to the ground. Harry clutched the prophecy for dear life as he led the others to what he hoped was safety. With a liberal use of _S__tupefy_ to confound pursuing Death Eaters, they found themselves clearing the room and heading toward nearby offices. Hiding was not to be, as they were soon found and put through their paces again.

They were a poor match for Death Eaters, seasoned wizards, though they'd held their own for some time. The only thing that Harry could think of was to draw them away from his friends. Dodging hex upon hex, Harry sprinted from the room, hoping, praying that the dark wizards would follow him. It was he who held what they wanted, the shining orb of the prophecy clutched tightly in his hand. He didn't want his friends to be forced to pay the price for his foolishness and stupidity.

His idea worked as he'd hoped. Harry could soon hear Bellatrix growl in annoyance as she and the others closed in behind him. Another step forward, and solid ground gave way to air as Harry fell, tumbling down to the room below and landing painfully on his back. Groaning, he gained his footing, his eyes drawn momentarily to the dais that held a stone archway, a rippling veil in its center. No sooner than he'd stood, Harry was approached by several Death Eaters. It wasn't long until he had backed up until one hand clutched at the dais.

To his horror, Harry saw the form of Neville rushing down to his aid, but all too quickly he was caught, his wand falling uselessly to the ground as he twisted in a Death Eater's grip. Bellatrix approached him, pressing her wand to his throat, murmuring something into Neville's ear in a parody of intimacy as he shivered. Harry never felt so helpless, not even in the cemetery a year ago. For it had been he that led them all to this. They'd trusted him, he'd trusted his own mind, and this is what it had wrought. The truth of Snape's words on the Dark Lord's hold on his mind returned to mock him. He couldn't dwell on this for too long, for Malfoy senior now stalked toward him.

"An admirable effort, Mr. Potter," the man drawled as he glided toward him, "but futile nonetheless. Hand me the prophecy, and you and your friends may yet know mercy."

Harry watched the older wizard stretch out his hand, waiting. Harry looked down at the glowing orb that he held, knowing full well that Malfoy was lying. He'd take the prophecy and him to Voldemort. And his friends would have no better fate. Still, he found his hand extending toward the blonde, who smirked faintly as the prophecy was almost in his grasp. Then in a fit of bravery or madness, Harry hurled the prophecy to the ground below, hearing a Death Eater gasp from somewhere behind him as it shattered into numerous splinters of useless glass.

Malfoy's face twisted with rage as he drew his wand, "You insufferable little-"

He cast a hex, and Harry's head whipped backward as he was taken with sudden dizziness, his vision blurring. Distantly, he heard the sound of screaming, of hexes being fired off as he wavered on his feet. Harry began to fall forward as if in slow motion, recognizing his godfather's voice rising above the din as he headed toward him. Then Harry was caught in strong arms, wisps of long hair falling against his face as he was swept against a broad chest. As Harry's eyes closed he felt a pull at his center, falling into blackness as he was spirited away to places unknown.

* * *

Back at Grimmauld Place, Sirius paced back and forth, agitatedly running a hand through his hair. Remus tried to get the other man to sit, but he was inconsolable. The scene of Harry falling unconscious into Malfoy's arms as the man spared him a smirk before activating a portkey tormented him. If only he'd been quicker, if only he'd managed to reach them.

Moody entered with other members of the Order, his face a grim mask. "We've searched all known areas, but no sign of the boy."

"If only I'd arrived sooner," Sirius remarked, his face full of poorly-hidden misery.

"It's not your fault, Sirius," Remus began.

"Damn it, Snape!" Sirius exclaimed as he whirled on the man, who appeared too calm for Sirius' tastes as he sat in a nearby armchair. "Don't you have any decent information on their hideouts?"

Snape glared at him, sneering. "Don't try to turn this back on me, Black," he spat. "I'm not responsible for Potter running off on fool's errands."

"Then what use are you if you can't-"

"What use are _you_ if you can't even protect the one you were charged with? I seem to have done more of your job of late, Black." Snape folded his arms against his chest. "It seems naming Pettigrew as secret keeper wasn't Potter's only mistake."

Sirius lunged at him, prevented by Remus' sudden hold on him. "You greasy little-"

"I make a convenient scapegoat for you as always. You'd do better figuring out how to get your fool godson out of the mess he's walked into instead of picking fights with me," Snape suggested in a voice that was anything but kind.

Dumbledore's voice forestalled the remark that Sirius had been about to give. "Gentlemen, bickering will get us nowhere." He turned toward Severus as he took a seat on the couch. "Is there anything that could be of help? Any places that you've had meetings where Harry may have been taken?"

"No places other than what Moody and the others have already checked." Snape's face turned grim. "It's possible that the Dark Lord has purposely not told me of this hiding place, Albus. He may be withholding information from me. I wasn't even summoned tonight, despite the fact other Death Eaters were mobilized. Perhaps I'm not as trusted as I previously thought."

"Some spy you make," Severus heard Sirius grumble, but didn't deign to comment as he was left to ponder the implications of being left out of the loop though he was presumably a member of the Dark Lord's inner circle. Dumbledore frowning and looking very much his age was an echo of his own dark thoughts.

* * *

When Harry woke, it was to the knowledge that, for now, he still lived and was being held somewhere cold. He struggled up off of the hard floor, peering around in the dim light cast from a high window. Was he in a cellar of some sort? The area itself was bare except for a threadbare blanket in a heap in a far corner. Harry tried the door, but as he expected, it was locked tight. Sighing, there was little that Harry could do but wait. He sat against one wall, drawing his knees up to his chest and resting his head on them. Had his friends managed to escape? He was almost certain that he'd heard Sirius' voice. Surely he and the other members of the Order rescued them. At least, this was what Harry hoped.

Some time latter, he heard a key turn in a lock and the door creaked open. Gaining his feet, Harry eyed the two Death Eaters warily. Without a word to him, they quickly approached, each of them grabbing an arm, causing Harry to struggle fruitlessly against them for a moment before they began to haul him out of the room and up a long flight of stairs. Realizing that struggling was getting him nowhere, Harry calmed somewhat. Taking in his surroundings, he realized that they were in a mansion of some sort, but that it seemed in disrepair. The halls were lit with candlelight, tattered wallpaper giving the scenery an eerie look. Soon, Harry was in what appeared to be the former dining room, but now it was a throne room of sorts, Voldemort sitting regally at the head of the room with his Death Eaters lining the side walls. On either side of the Dark Lord's throne stood Lucius and Bellatrix.

Rising with his usual grace, Voldemort stepped off of his throne, gliding toward his prey with long strides. Harry's knees felt weak, but somehow, he managed to remain standing on his own accord. Voldemort could feel the fear rolling off of the boy in waves. It was exhilarating, a balm for all the annoyances he'd suffered because of one Harry Potter, The Boy Who Lived but Not for Much Longer.

"Harry Potter," Voldemort uttered in a smooth voice. Harry flinched at the sound of it. "At last you are within my grasp. At last, I will be rid of you. But first, I must know whatever of the prophecy you learned, the prophecy that you so rudely shattered when you had no right to."

"I won't tell you anything," Harry said with a bravery he hardly felt. "You'll learn nothing from me."

Voldemort grinned suddenly as if Harry had told a rather funny joke before raising his wand and cheerfully saying, "_Crucio_."

Harry squirmed and the two Death Eaters that had held either arm let him fall to the ground where he writhed. The pain was maddening, inescapable, seeping into every pore, lighting fire to every nerve. As suddenly as it started, the pain was gone. The teenager lay panting on the cool floor, his hair plastered to his face by sweat.

"You're still such a fool," Voldemort told him as he circled. Harry noted how his voice still held that same degree of satisfaction. And why shouldn't it? He'd been as foolhardy as anyone had ever accused him of being, playing right into the Dark Lord's hands. "Everything I want, I get eventually, even you, child," the wizard continued.

Soon, Harry found a long fingered hand pulling him to his knees by his collar. The Dark Lord bent to regard him. Voldemort's eyes seemed to burn his flesh as they searched his face. "I don't expect to tell me, Harry. I intend for you to show me." He lifted Harry's face with the tip of his wand so that they were staring into each others eyes. Suddenly that wand was pointing and Harry watched thin lips form around the word, "_Legilimens_."

For a fleeting moment, Harry offered resistance, but all too soon, it shattered into a thousand pieces as if it had never even been. Then Harry knew pain, more than anything he'd felt at Snape's hands during his ill-fated lessons in Occulmency. He knew horror as every memory he'd ever had was rifled through. The agony, the humiliation, and the occasional joy were all displayed for the Dark Lord to see, his mind so many pages of an open book.

_You won't last two seconds if he invades your mind_, Harry heard then saw Snape say in his memories as if on cue. Somewhere around him came Voldemort's echoing laughter. "You should have listened to him, Harry. Severus has always been a clever one. So he tried to teach you Occulmency. Dumbledore's meddling, no doubt. Interesting." Then the dark wizard was searching again, searching until he found something that made him gasp and pull free of Harry's mind. The boy fell forward as the man stepped away, Harry falling to his hands and knees as he panted.

If Harry hadn't been so drained from the encounter, he would have seen that moment when Voldemort stumble backward momentarily with widened eyes until he regained his usual poise. If Harry had had half the talent that Snape possessed, he could have taken advantage of Voldemort's shock to delve inside to see the memory of Voldemort looking into the black depths that existed on the fringe of Harry's soul and recognizing a piece of himself staring back at him. As it was, this was not to be, and when Harry had recovered enough, he looked up into a thoughtful Voldemort's face.

"What to do with you now, Harry Potter?" Voldemort asked himself. "What to do?"

Bellatrix stepped forward. "Give him to me, My Lord," she told him eagerly, "I'll make sure he pays tenfold for what he's done to you."

Voldemort regarded her shining eyes before saying, "No, dear Bellatrix. I don't want the boy harmed." Harry could hear the implied "yet" that the dark wizard had left off. "For now, he shall benefit from my hospitality until I decide otherwise." Voldemort gestured to two young Death Eaters who stepped forward.

"Bring Mr. Potter to the room at the end of the hallway upstairs. Be sure he comes to no unfortunate… accidents on his way there," he added in warning.

Harry soon found himself pulled from the floor and nearly dragged out of the room. He looked over his shoulder to see Voldemort speaking in a low voice to Lucius and Bellatrix.

When the trio reached the end of the hallway, Harry found himself dragged into the room and tossed unceremoniously onto the bed. Thinking that the two men would leave him alone, he started as he saw one of them shut the door with them still inside. Warning bells went off when the man cast silencing and locking charms on the door.

"What are you doing, Trevor?" The first Death Eater asked the one who'd cast the charms. "The Dark Lord said-"

"Not to harm him, I know. I'm not going to hurt him. I'll be as gentle as possible."

"No!" Harry exclaimed in rising panic as the Death Eater approached him. His friend hovered near the door as if unsure.

When Trevor neared, Harry kicked out, catching the man in the chest. Harry scrambled off of the bed only to find himself thrown to the floor by an irate Death Eater.

"So that's how you want it, eh?" the wizard told him, anger lighting his eyes. "I don't mind playing a little rough, but you won't like it very much, boy." He backhanded Harry , his head whipping to the side with the force of the blow.

"Come on, Trevor! If the Dark Lord finds out-"

"He won't find out!" Trevor insisted as he wrestled with the teenaged wizard on the floor. He managed to get Harry's hands over his head. "We can just Obliviate him afterwards. Now come over here and help me."

Sighing, his friend cast a binding spell on Harry's hands as he neared. Try as he might, he couldn't budge them. In dawning horror at what was about to occur, Harry looked up into the man's pleased face.

"Don't worry," Trevor told him. "The two of us will treat you to our special brand of hospitality."

Harry squirmed, trying to kick at the two men as one unbuttoned his shirt and the other tried to divest him of his trousers. He willed himself not to cry, yet his vision blurred with unshed tears. He would endure this, endure and survive as he'd always done with every other slight against him. But some are worse than others, Harry thought as he gazed up at the ceiling.

Voldemort was in the midst of instructing Lucius on their next line of attack when he felt the distant sense of fear, of horror. Placing a hand to his temple, he ignored Lucius' inquiry as to his wellness in favor of focusing elsewhere. Of sliding into the mind that held a piece of his own. Of looking through a pair of green eyes that gazed up at a person moving to take a place between his thighs. Cursing, the Dark Lord spun in a flurry of dark robes to head out of the room and up the stairs. His robes flaring as his stride became a near run, he leveled his wand at the door at the end of the hallway, spitting a curse at it. The wood buckled, exploding into the room with a satisfying loud crack and flying of splinters. In shock, the young man moved off of Harry. Whatever explanation the Death Eater had been about to give caught in his throat as a dark form slithered forward faster than he could catch his breath to scream, fangs lodging deep in his throat. The other Death Eater had moved to the opposite side of the room, cowering as he watched Voldemort's familiar slither away from his friends writhing form. A wave of Voldemort's hand, and Harry was free, scooting until his back hit the wall and attempting to pull his trousers up with trembling hands.

Harry regarded Voldemort warily. The dark wizard's eyes were trained on the young man lying sprawled on the floor who gurgled as venom ripped through his body, his form quivering until it finally lay still. Voldemort stepped over the corpse to approach his other servant who had pressed himself against the far wall.

"What part of 'I don't want the boy harmed' do you not understand?" Voldemort asked as he toyed with his wand.

"It wasn't my idea!" the Death Eater insisted as he gestured toward his friend's corpse. "He-"

Voldemort didn't give him a chance to finish his thought. "I have little need of servants who don't know how to obey me. _Avada__Kedavra_." Harry flinched, turning his eyes away as green light enveloped the man. His body slid down the wall, a look of horror forever frozen on his face. Voldemort turned toward the Death Eaters standing just beyond the ruin of the doorway. "Clean this up," he instructed.

Harry watched Voldemort's approach, absently noting how the other Death Eaters dragged the bodies from the room. The dark wizard crouched to regard him.

"They didn't harm you," Voldemort said with certainty. But how could he have known? "There is nothing that can happen in this place without my knowledge," Voldemort told him in answer. "If you have any ideas of escape, put them from your mind."

Harry found the nerve to gaze directly into red eyes. "Why did you help me?"

Voldemort loomed close enough for Harry to be warmed by the wizard's expelled breath. "Your life is mine, Harry Potter. You continue to live at my sufferance, at my whim. Whatever good or ill to be visited upon your mind or body is of my design. Mine and no one else's." He reached out a hand toward Harry as the boy flinched, pushing back his hair to expose the lightning bold-shaped scar etched into Harry's flesh. "I earned that right when I gave you this."

He straightened and Harry shivered, his words and his own fate finally sinking in. It would only be a matter of time, wouldn't it, before he was no longer of interest to the dark wizard. He'd already gleaned whatever information Harry possessed out of his thoughts. Harry was woken from his reverie by the sound of Parseltongue being whispered. As Voldemort strode from the room without a backward glance at him, Nagini slithered forward. Startled, Harry climbed back onto the bed. The serpent regarded him for a moment, tasting the air nearby with her tongue before slithering up onto the coverlet to coil across the bottom of the large bed. Unnerved, Harry pushed himself against the headboard, drawing his knees to his chest and watching the serpent uneasily as she slipped off into a light slumber.

TBC


	2. Chapter 2

Title: Even Angels Fall, Part Two

Author: Head Girl

Pairing: Voldemort/Harry

Rating: eventual M

Summary: Occurs during an AU OotP. Harry is led toward the dark by the wizard who should be his enemy.

**Part Two**

Somehow, Harry ended up dozing off in the room at the end of the hallway, the exhaustion of the night's events finally catching up with him despite his attempts to stay awake. The early morning light streaming in through the window onto his face roused him to wakefulness. At first, he pulled the blanket up over his head as he muttered, not realizing where he actually was and thinking he lay in his dorm room. The sensation of something slithering over his legs made him sit bolt upright, scrambling out of the bed and landing in an inelegant heap on the floor with a squawk.

He stared up at the bed in fright as he saw the large snake poke her head out from under the blanket. Fear edged away in the face of anger when he realized that the serpent was laughing at him.

"_Sss__sss__sss__ Not as elegant as Master, no not hardly_," Nagini laughed at him.

"_What do you think you were doing?_" Harry asked, slipping into Parseltongue as he rose from his sprawl on the floor.

"_Sleeping until you woke me. How rude! You are very warm__ though,_" she answered, slithering off of the bed. She moved to wind herself between his feet as he gazed down at her warily. "_Won't hurt you, no.__ Master wouldn't have it. That's why I'm here, to keep the rats away._"

"_Rats?_" Harry asked. Remembering the two Death Eaters from the night before, he got her meaning. He held his shoulders for a moment as if he were cold. He had hoped that this all had been some sort of vivid nightmare, but it was all very real. Walking over to the door, which had been repaired, Harry tried to open it though he knew with near certainty it had been locked and warded. It was as he'd expected. Frowning, he marched over to the window, finding it unable to be opened. For a mad moment, Harry considered breaking the window with a chair. He then realized how far it was that he'd have to drop below as he leaned against the window. No way of doing that without breaking a leg or something more, that is if the window could even be broken. Chances of that were unlikely. Sighing, he turned to lean back against the nearby wall, sliding down to sit on the floor, his head in his hands. How did he get himself into these situations? Somehow, Harry doubted he'd be out of it any time soon. _You live at my sufferance, at my whim,_ Voldemort's voice echoed in his mind, mocking him. And he still didn't know how well his friends had fared.

"_Why so gloomy, Harry Potter?_" the serpent asked as she slithered toward him.

"_Nothing you'd care about,_" he snapped. "_Or that I'd want to tell you._"

"_Children these days can be so rude,_" she remarked. "_I still like you a bit, Harry Potter. We have so many things in common._"

Harry turned to her. "_Oh yeah, many things.__ Speaking Parseltongue is about it, I think. I have no inten__t__ion of becoming __Voldemort'__s pe__t like you_"

Nagini's hissing laughter did nothing to improve Harry's mood. "_Such a silly boy you are. I won't tell you, no. Clever boys should figure things out on their own._"

Harry gazed at her quizzically as she winded her way across toward the bed, curling up where Harry's body had lain, soaking up the rays of the morning sun as he watched her.

In perhaps another hour or so, a Death Eater sans their usual garb entered the room with a tray. Harry stiffened as the man approached. The wizard eyed Nagini, who had raised her head up off of the bed to stare at him unblinkingly. Flustered, the man quickly turned away, placing the tray near the seated teenager.

"Here's your breakfast," he said curtly before taking his leave, giving the bed on which the serpent laid a wide berth. Harry supposed word of what happened the night before had gotten around their base rather quickly.

The aroma of the food tempted Harry, making his stomach churn. He dared not eat it. Who knew what it had been laced with? Poison, unknown substances to dampen the will. With Snape serving the man, any potion was possible. He was aware that the man ultimately worked for Dumbledore, but who knew what kind of things he'd had to brew for the Dark Lord to ensure his position. Harry's eyes widened after a moment in realization. Voldemort had been inside his mind, rifled through his thoughts for who knows how long. Had he found evidence of Snape's betrayal of him?

No sooner than he'd thought of the wizard, Voldemort entered, gliding into the room with long strides, the cloth of his robe rustling against his skin. The robe's fabric was light enough to flutter about the man's form yet thick enough to conceal what lay beneath it. As the man passed the bed, he inclined his head to Nagini, whose head was raised in awareness. The snake gave its version of a bow as her master passed.

"Harry," Voldemort greeted brightly, a faint smile on his face as he strode over, "surely you must be hungry by now," he remarked, noting how the boy hadn't touched the food that had been prepared for him.

Harry gazed at him sullenly, refusing to answer. Insults and slights from the man were something that the boy could understand. The Dark Lord's attempt at polite conversation was unnerving.

Not bothered by Harry's silence, the Dark Lord continued. "I wouldn't be much of a host if I allowed you to starve. I think I'm a sight better than those Muggles charged to raise you." Eying Harry for a moment, he added, "The food isn't poisoned. If I want you to die, Harry Potter, you will know it."

Harry eyed the food warily again, the scent of the meal making his traitorous stomach growl louder. He stiffened as he watched Voldemort approach. However, the wizard made no attempts to touch him, choosing instead to place several strips of bacon onto a napkin, gliding back over to the bed to sit beside Nagini. Perking up, the snake took the proffered strips from the Dark Lord's fingers, her tongue darting out seeking the last traces of flavor on Voldemort's hand, earning a faint smile from the wizard.

Harry found it so strange that a man who could be so cruel could show kindness to a creature. He shook his head, realizing that 'kindness' and 'Voldemort' didn't' belong in the same sentence together. Nicking a biscuit for himself from the plate nearby, Harry tore off a small piece to pop almost surreptitiously into his mouth, staving off his hunger just a bit. "What happened to my friends?" he asked.

Voldemort didn't look at him, his eyes still on Nagini as he ran his hand over her scales. She slithered slightly back and forth in pleasure. "I imagine that they are safe and sound. My Death Eaters left them to the Aurors." The wizard turned to regard him. "I wonder if they are as worried about you as you are for them."

"Of course they are!" Harry told him indignantly. "I wouldn't expect someone like you to understand anything about it. It's not like you have any friends."

Voldemort chuckled, and Nagini chose that moment to slide across his lap under his stroking hand and behind him. She slid across the Dark Lord's back to place her head on his shoulder, eying Harry as she tasted the air with her tongue. "I have all the friends I need or require," the wizard insisted, raising a hand to stroke her head.

"Your servants don't count," Harry remarked.

"Nor would I have them count," Voldemort answered. "There are times when servants can become friends," he said as Nagini slid herself under his chin as she twined around his other shoulder and down to the bed again, "but I prefer to keep the two separate. I've no need of a bunch of fawning imbeciles imparting me with protestations of their… _love_." He said the last word as though it were distasteful. "I've found that surrounding oneself with such creatures is only needed by the insecure." He gazed at Harry knowingly, making the teenager bristle visibly.

Harry knew that he was likely treading dangerous waters by angering the man, but he couldn't help but remark, "No, you prefer fawning minions that bow and scrape to make you feel powerful."

Instead of becoming angry, Voldemort laughed. "Oh, minions I have in droves," he said, punctuating his words with a wave of his hand, "but I don't need them to make me feel anything. I _am_ powerful, Harry. But it does feel rather nice to exercise that power, I will admit. I don't seek servants out, child. They come to _me_, to have but a taste of the strength that I possess. And what if I do prefer them on their knees? I think that they look better that way, bowing before me." The dark wizard leaned forward, a sly smile on his face. "Or do you think it's different somehow if I offer them lemon drops and tea as they sit in one of my comfortable chairs instead? Or dole out useless platitudes to ease their disquiet as I make them bend to my will regardless? The tactics differ, Harry, but I'm sure you're smart enough to realize that it's all the same, wizards of power exercising it. The only difference between your precious Dumbledore and I are the sides on which we stand in this war."

"You're wrong," Harry said. "He doesn't hurt people."

Voldemort canted his head, an amused expression on his face. "And what do you know of what Dumbledore has done? He's told you, has he, confided in you in regard to his sins because you're so trusted?" The dark wizard's face lost its humor and was replaced by an unreadable expression. "No Harry, you know very little about your beloved Dumbledore. He's not a wizard's version of Father Christmas. You don't become as powerful a wizard as him by 'not hurting people.'"

Harry opened his mouth to speak, but found himself at a loss for words. It was true, though, that Dumbledore told Harry little, even things relating to Harry. Despite this, he wanted to argue with the man further on the subject, but found himself brought up short by his words. Words that voiced a nagging suspicion that lurked at the back of Harry's mind sometimes when he looked into those twinkling blue eyes.

"The machinations behind those eyes are limitless, Harry, you have no idea," Voldemort added in answer to his thoughts. It was as if he were constantly peering into the boy's mind. Harry frowned at the fact that the man probably was doing just that, speaking these words to twist Harry's memories of the people he held dear and gauging his reactions.

"And you have your own," Harry answered, finding his voice. He refused to give in to the man's game now that he thought he knew it. He wouldn't doubt the people he cared for. "I'm sure you don't tell your people everything."

"I do tell them what they need to know. And they know where they stand with me, no false offers of friendship or a shoulder to cry on," Voldemort countered. "And I know where I stand with them. They serve me out of fear and a desire for power. Minions are easy things. The concept of a friend can be trickier. Are you sure that your friends… love you, Harry, or what they think you to be? We all know how many friends you had as a nobody in the Muggle world and how all that changed when you came, a celebrity, to the Wizarding World-"

"You don't know anything," Harry interrupted. The man's words grated on his nerves again. He tried to tell himself that the wizard was just trying to get under his skin, using the memories he'd plundered against him. But why then did his words set Harry so on edge? He had true friends, Harry _knew_ this, so-

The memory came to him unbidden of meeting Ron for the first time on the train._ 'Are you really Harry Potter?' _he'd asked, with wonder in his eyes. Then the others he'd met and marked as friends, all when he'd first met them had asked him something similar outright or did so with their eyes, scanning his fringe of unruly hair for the hint of his famous scar.

"I'm sure they'd all love you just the same, Harry, even if you weren't the Boy Who Lived," Voldemort told him, his voice full of false reassurance. "I'm sure that your celebrity status doesn't even factor into it. I'm certain that none of them feel that your status somehow trickles down to them, that they bask somehow in your notoriety by being close to you." The wizard rose as if to leave, then turned to Harry slightly. "You know, like my minions do." Voldemort drank in Harry's disquiet for a moment before heading toward the entrance to the room. "Be sure to eat your breakfast, Harry. You're far too thin for a boy your age," he called out behind him. The door opened again as Voldemort neared it, closing again after he whisked past the threshold.

* * *

Descending the stairs, Voldemort headed off to his throne room, passing a small group of Death Eaters who bowed deeply as he passed. He distractedly acknowledged them with a wave of his hand, preoccupied with his plans regarding the boy among other things. He'd already given them orders for now and would leave them to it. The men and women watched him go, most of them moving to gather in the foyer in preparation for departing for Muggle London. Bellatrix lingered until she saw the Dark Lord's form move out of sight. Turning slightly, she realized that Lucius was still at her side as if waiting for her. She moved past him on her way toward the others when the sound of his voice caused her steps to slow.

"It's odd, isn't it, Bellatrix?" Lucius asked her as he fell into step with her.

"I'm not sure what you mean," she answered, her wand playing absently with a lock of her hair.

"I'm referring to the Dark Lord's behavior of late," Lucius replied, his hands behind his back.

"What of it?" she asked, glancing at him briefly.

"Isn't it rather odd that our lord is keeping the Potter child alive?" Lucius asked. "I would have expected at least a bit of torture, but no. The boy is ensconced safely in a comfortable room in this mansion. He even killed a pair of his servants who tried to take… liberties."

"None should touch or punish the boy unless the Dark Lord decides it," Bellatrix said. "They disobeyed him. You'll not find be mourning the young and foolish."

"All I'm saying is that it's strange. Just a few days ago he wanted Potter's head on a platter and now he's protecting him-"

"It's not our place to wonder these things," Bellatrix interrupted, her eyes glittering up at him in warning. "All we need to know is how to serve him."

"Of course," Lucius agreed, realizing that perhaps he'd spoken a bit too much to the wrong person. "Forgive me if it seemed that I was suggesting otherwise. Just thinking aloud, I suppose. I'm sure our lord has a grand plan in store for Mr. Potter."

Mollified somewhat, Bellatrix' eyes lost some of their angry light. As they joined their comrades to set off on their latest task, Malfoy senior continued to wonder if there was something in recent events that he could turn to his advantage.

TBC


	3. Chapter 3

Title: Even Angels Fall, Part Three

Author: Head Girl

Pairing: Voldemort/Harry

Rating: eventual M

Warnings: Character death

Summary: Occurs during an AU OotP. Harry is led toward the dark by the wizard who should be his enemy.

**Part Three**

The sun climbed the early morning sky of London as people buzzed about the bustling city, off to work and to run errands under the field of blue with scattered clouds. It was as normal a day as any other. At a crosswalk, a mother and son waited for traffic to come to a stop before crossing the street. Cars came to a halt as the green light became red.

"Come on, dear," she told her child as she took the boy's hand. There wasn't much longer before the light changed again for them to cross to the other side of the street. "We're going to be late at this rate." She tugged lightly on the boy's hand.

"But why's the sky funny now?" the child asked, raising his free hand to point at the swirling dark clouds that were moving to blot out the sun.

The woman gazed up in wonder as the rising wind tossed her hair at the dark clouds that swirled as the sky darkened, casting a gloom about the city. They soon resolved into the shape of a skull, a serpent spewing forth from the skull's widened jaw in the parody of a lolling tongue.

"What on earth?" she gasped, shocked at the strange sight.

Others around her joined in the surprise that soon turned to horror as amorphous clouds of black whirled from the sky to touch the ground, resolving into dark clad figures, their faces covered with masks in the shape of skulls. Animated from her shocked stupor, the woman scooped up her child and ran in the opposite direction.

"_Incendio_" she heard a voice say, and the newsstand that she'd just passed went up in flames. The woman spared a look behind her as green light flared on the edge of her vision. Before she'd even turned her head completely around, she was tossed child in hand against the side of a building, falling still. Panicked people scattered around her.

Screams filled the air as people fled, the screeching of brakes being applied as drivers tried, and some failing, to strike the pedestrians who sought escape. Metal grinded against metal as cars struck each other in the resulting confusion.

"What are those things?" one dark robed figure asked, pointing at a wreck of twisted metal.

"The Muggles call them automobiles," another Death Eater filled in, absently casting a hex at a fleeing Muggle who was tossed into the air as green light surrounded him. "They're carriages that don't require horses."

"They use a flammable potion to make them run," Bellatrix' voice supplied. "They burn nicely, I'll show you." She cast at a nearby car, a fire ball striking the center, and the gas tank ignited with a roar.

"Splendid!" another exclaimed, imitating her actions and causing more of the escaping cars to ignite and explode, causing other drivers to flee their autos to escape on foot.

"Come on," Bellatrix urged. "We don't have much time before the Aurors come. Let's give these Muggles a proper show." The others followed the woman into the center of the city, leaving a path of destruction in their wake.

* * *

Seated on his throne, Voldemort waited. The first bit of his plans had been set in motion. It was meant to be just a mere demonstration of his power. Just a taste to let that old fool know that he was powerless to stop him, not when he had his precious boy savior ensconced in his unplottable mansion. That vile prophecy be damned. He still knew little of what it said, but it mattered not now that the boy had fallen into his hands. 

Reaching out with his mind, Voldemort sought out his dearest servant, sliding into Nagini's mind to peer at the boy through her eyes. The serpent obligingly raised her head to gaze at Harry when she felt her master's presence. The boy was still seated where he had been when Voldemort had left the room earlier, although he did seem to have eaten much of his breakfast. He was sitting with his knees drawn up to his chest, his forehead resting against them. Voldemort gazed at the top of Harry's unruly head of hair. Despite the child's usual outward sunny disposition, the boy seemed to enjoy his brooding. _Pondering his fate, no doubt_ the Dark Lord thought with a smirk.

Voldemort had decided to forego killing the boy after seeing what was inside of him. And what a shock he'd had when he looked into Harry's mind. Although Voldemort was a little disappointed that he hadn't realized what he'd made the boy into sooner. The clues were all there. Perhaps he'd been too focused on wanting to kill the Potter child, to make him suffer for the depths to which he'd made Voldemort sink to cling to life that he hadn't seen what was right in front of him.

He simply had to protect the boy now, his little accidental Horcrux. Voldemort was loath to lose any of his pieces of soul. But why not turn this to his advantage? Why not make use of this time they had together to twist the Potter child's loyalty away from those he cared for? The dark wizard smirked. It's not as if the boy wasn't more than a tool to the forces of Light, despite their protests otherwise. If the boy wasn't so simple, so desperate for someone's, _anyone's_ approval and affection, he would see it himself. But why shouldn't he become Voldemort's tool instead?

The Dark Lord had to admit that there was a strange symmetry to the two of them. It was as though he and the boy were on either side of a cracked mirror, gazing at each other. If Harry's perspective on his life were different, he could have _become_ him. Voldemort smiled faintly as he tapped his lower lip with a long finger. Oh yes. And become him the boy shall. He would pull the boy through that looking glass so that he'd peer at the world with eyes like his own. And wouldn't it be sweet when the day came that Dumbledore was face to face with his boy savior, tainted beyond redemption? He would relish the look in those deep blue eyes before he sent the old man onward to death. Allow him to see the two of them side by side, master and servant. Perfect. But he'd have to play this just right to win the boy to his side and keep him there.

A pupil. What a novel idea. Voldemort grinned, more certain than ever to make the child The Boy Who Lived to Serve Him.

* * *

In the ruins of midtown London, the Death Eaters watched Muggles in odd uniforms gather, taking refuge behind overturned cars and debris to point strange shaped objects in their direction and order them to stop. Weapons of some sort, they supposed. When the wizards advanced on them, they set seemingly invisible objects whizzing past them, a few of the Death Eaters felled by them. A liberal use of hexes sent the annoying Muggles scattering, well-placed _Incendio__s_ sending their hiding places up in flames. 

"Aurors!" a Death Eater yelled from somewhere nearby. Bellatrix turned to peer through the rising smoke as she heard the crack of Apparition, the light wizards arriving en masse. She joined her comrades in firing off curses at their rivals.

"Let's go!" she shouted, fleeing through the din. Their group had done what they'd set out to do. It was up to Lucius' cohort back in the Wizarding World for the next phase. As the smoke began to clear in her area due to the wind, she caught sight of an unmasked Rudolphus ahead of her and off to her side. Before his name passed her lips, she heard several loud pops and saw the man begin to fall.

Enraged, she screamed as she ran forward, casting a hex at the Muggle who turned to point that thing he was holding at her that made the man practically turn inside out, his gore spilling onto the pavement. When she reached her husband, he was groaning and clutching at his middle.

"Rodolphus, get up," Bellatrix urged, grabbing the man under his shoulders in an effort to haul him to his feet. The man was too weak to rise on his own and only gurgled and groaned in response to her. "Rodolphus-!" Her words were cut off by the sight of Aurors converging on them.

Holding her husband close, Bellatrix spared the approaching wizards a glare before the crack of Apparition pulled the two of them away to the meeting point. Bellatrix sighed with relief when the sight of the clearing in the woods not far from the mansion resolved around them. The other Death Eaters of her cohort soon appeared to join them, some looking worse for wear. She looked down, about to reassure her husband that they had arrived safely, but was met with empty eyes staring up at her.

* * *

Back at the Order's headquarters at Grimmauld Place, the mood around the table was grim. Moody took a seat at the table to inform the other members of the Order of the latest events. He gazed at Dumbledore, who nodded for him to begin. 

"As you know, in the morning, a group of Death Eaters attacked Muggle London. We weren't able to capture any of them, although a few of them were injured. They took their casualties with them. We were working overtime to Obliviate everyone after the Death Eaters had fled the scene," Moody told them. "The Muggle news stations are calling it a 'terrorist attack,' whatever that is. This may have been some sort of diversion, since they seemed to use our preoccupation to attack one of the outlying Auror headquarters while many of them had been drawn away."

"He's getting bold because he still has Harry," Remus said grimly.

"Perhaps," Dumbledore said, his hands steepled in thought. "Regardless, we must try to take precautions of some sort. There's no telling when Voldemort intends to make his next attack. Reconnaissance is of course of the essence now," Dumbledore continued, his eyes passing across the members at the table until they fell onto Severus. Dark eyes met blue. Dumbledore was aware that Severus had received no summons from the Dark Lord, as the two of them had been together at Hogwarts at the time. Whatever it was, Dumbledore suspected that the dark wizard didn't trust the potions master enough to inform him of his latest plans or allow him to participate in certain aspects of them. The headmaster frowned. Perhaps Voldemort was just being overly cautious right now. Perhaps Severus' position as the Order's most valuable spy could still be salvaged.

* * *

On the top floor of the mansion, Voldemort gazed out of the window at the afternoon scenery. Things had shaped up much as he'd hoped. They'd dealt both the Muggles and more importantly the side of Light a decisive blow with minimal losses. Voldemort frowned, watching with mild annoyance the raging fire that had only just been quelled in the nearby forest. Bellatrix was as inconsolable as to be expected at the loss of her husband. She'd been dragged away kicking and screaming after setting the woods near the Apparition point ablaze before the other Death Eaters had been forced to stun her. It wouldn't do for such displays of grief to attract attention to the forest as near as it was to their hiding place. It was a shame to lose the man, even Voldemort had to admit. The Lestranges were among the most loyal of his servants. He hoped he didn't lose Bellatrix as well to further madness. Voldemort looked thoughtful as he gazed at the diminishing smoke rising from the forest. Perhaps the loss would make her more vicious and determined instead. This could be helpful as long as it didn't make the woman too reckless. 

Pulling away from the window, the Dark Lord headed down the hallway toward his prisoner and houseguest. The door opened before him to the sight of Harry near the side window, detracted for the moment by the sight of Nagini stretching her mouth around a large rat. Voldemort raised an eyebrow, wondering for a moment if it was Pettigrew in animagus form. If it were, it would hardly be much of a loss. At least he'd be spared from the man's continued sniveling.

Seeing the dark wizard out of the periphery of his vision, Harry turned back to regard the scenery beyond the window, wondering idly what had started the fire that he'd watched for a time before it had been extinguished. He wondered if he'd ever see anything beyond the four walls he was imprisoned by again. Would the others come for him, or was he hidden away by Voldemort too well? He tried not to cringe as he heard the Dark Lord's steps lead to a halt behind him.

"Don't be concerned by the fire, Harry," Voldemort said from far too nearby. The teen could almost feel the body heat radiating off of the other wizard, he was standing so close. "Nothing can harm us as long as we're behind the wards."

_And no one can get to me, either,_ Harry thought sullenly. He started as he felt a long-fingered hand rest on his shoulder. So shocked was he that Harry didn't resist when he was turned by that hand, gently but firmly.

Harry looked up into a pair of intense red eyes that gazed down at him with a shuttered expression, the wizard's face a mask of pleasantness. "I just realized how ungracious of a host I've been, Harry. I haven't even shown you the rest of the mansion. Where have my manners gone?" Voldemort asked lightly.

Harry gazed up at the man with an expression of quizzical wariness that morphed into a form of horror as the Dark Lord's hand slid from his shoulder down his arm to take his hand in his own. Voldemort backed away as Harry's feet remained glued to the spot. The man smiled faintly as he drew away with the length of Harry's arm between them. Voldemort tugged on the hand he clasped, making the surprised boy stumble forward as he was pulled away from the window. Recovering as if from a sudden fugue, Harry pulled his hand away quickly as if burned, cradling it in his other hand as if some sort of pain or odd sensation still lingered in it.

Voldemort canted his head to one side, amused by the Potter child's behavior and his flushed cheeks. He was so easy to fluster. It was practically delicious. "Don't you want to get out of here for a while, Harry?" Voldemort asked him.

"I'd rather stay here," Harry said. Despite the fact that he wanted to get out of the room, he had a sinking feeling about allowing Voldemort to take him anywhere.

The Dark Lord's eyes narrowed even as his expression remained pleasant. "Oh, I must insist. It would be rude for you to refuse, Harry. Didn't those Muggles teach you any propriety? I suppose I shouldn't be surprised that they failed in that as in everything else."

Harry rubbed his hand. The man didn't know the half of it, or maybe he did, that and more, since the wizard had so casually treaded through every memory he'd ever had. And Harry refused to think about how he had to agree with the man, at least where the Dursleys were concerned. Frowning, he stepped forward reluctantly, unable to repress a shiver as Voldemort's hand landed on his shoulder again and he found himself steered out of the room.

Acting the part of the gracious host, Voldemort gave Harry a tour of the relatively innocuous parts of the mansion. There were several areas on the first floor and lower levels that he didn't show the boy for obvious reasons. It wasn't long until the front door opened before them, Voldemort gesturing past the doorway with an elegant hand. Harry stepped over the threshold, surprise written all over his face at being allowed outside. Voldemort smirked beside him. He led the boy along a stone path, grass and weeds peeking up through ragged flat stone periodically along its length.

"I suppose that I could allow you on the grounds during the daytime, since it seems to please you so much," Voldemort informed him, clasping his hands behind his back. "It's not good for a growing boy to be inside all day." He gazed down at a frowning Harry. "The wards will only let you go so far from the mansion. You'll be able to sense them if you draw close enough. I wouldn't test their limits, Harry. Brushing up against them would feel rather… unpleasant," the man informed him, a hint of a smile on his face.

Harry gazed down sullenly, feeling the urge to place his hands around his shoulders but resisting somehow. He'd rather that the man let him go, but that seemed as unlikely as Aurors finding the place they had him hidden.

"I'm sure you realize that I can't do that Harry," the wizard told him in answer to his unvoiced desires. How did the man keep sensing what he thought? "Although there may come a time when you aren't as limited," he continued.

Harry seriously doubted this. Whatever game the wizard had decided to play of late, Harry didn't like it. Not knowing what the Dark Lord was playing at with his recent behavior was unnerving. As they walked on the pathway behind the mansion, they came across Bellatrix leaning against the side wall as she stood upon the grass. Harry frowned. Her behavior seemed a lot different than when he'd seen her at the Ministry of Magic. Sensing their presence, she raised her head, her eyes glittering with unshed tears.

"Ah, Bellatrix, you're awake now, I see," Voldemort said, approaching to place a hand on each of her shoulders. She gazed up at him, nodding faintly.

"It's such a shame to lose Rodolphus," he told her. "He was among the most loyal of my servants, such loyalty that he didn't deny me at a time when so many others did. I don't forget devotion such as that."

"Thank you, My Lord," Bellatrix said, her voice full of emotion.

Voldemort's eyes narrowed. "You'll pay them back, won't you, dear Bellatrix, for every drop of blood that Rodolphus shed?"

"I will," she told him, her eyes glittering up at him with renewed purpose.

Voldemort smiled. "Good. I intend to give you many opportunities to do so in the coming weeks."

"Thank you, My Lord," the woman said, bowing deeply as her master stepped away. She watched as the man turned, drawing Harry away with him.

Harry knew from their words that something had happened, that Death Eaters apparently had died in some sort of attack, but Voldemort's mood seemed high. Somehow, Harry knew that the man's pleasure wasn't feigned. Whatever had occurred, the outcome had been in the Dark Lord's favor. The man seemed in no hurry to impart any details to him, however. Harry spared a glance up at the wizard beside him as he was led back toward the entrance of the mansion, feeling a pair of red eyes on him periodically on their way.

TBC


	4. Chapter 4

Title: Even Angels Fall, Part Four

Author: Head Girl

Pairing: Voldemort/Harry

Rating: eventual M

Warnings: Character death

Summary: Occurs during an AU OotP. Harry is led toward the dark by the wizard who should be his enemy.

**Part Four**

Under the mid-morning sun, Harry jogged around the perimeter of the grounds, staying only a few feet shy of the wards that kept him a prisoner, Nagini watching him as he made laps from the shade of a large shrub. It had been two weeks since he'd been taken at the Department of Mysteries, two weeks with rescue seeming nowhere in sight. Except for that initial few hours of his captivity, Harry had been treated remarkably well. Food and even some clothing had been provided for him, surprisingly enough. He had little contact with Death Eaters, except for the ones that brought him his meals. Even stranger were Voldemort's continued visits to Harry while he was sequestered in his room, and his attempts at initiating conversation or even a game of wizard's chess. Harry had enough common sense to humor whatever strange mood had taken the dark wizard. If this was some kind of attempt at gaining Harry's trust, the man would be sorely disappointed as far as Harry was concerned. He frowned as he sped up his pace. He'd never grow to trust the one who'd killed his parents and tried to kill him in turn.

Initially when Harry had been given roam of certain areas of the mansion and the grounds, Harry had sullenly refused to take advantage of it, knowing that such allowances were all part of the Dark Lord's most recent game. Upon further reflection, Harry decided to take the wizard up on his offer and began exploring the areas he was allowed. He couldn't be sure if or when the Order would come for him, so he decided to do his own brand of investigation, trying to find out as much information that would be useful to the wizards of Light as possible.

His little jogging excursions had another purpose beside the obvious as well. Harry used the time to test the limits of the wards and to try to sense any weakness in them that would allow his escape. He refused to believe that they were as impenetrable as the Dark Lord said. Voldemort hadn't been exaggerating about how unpleasant coming into contact with them would be for him, though. He'd received a nasty shock, racing along the surface of his skin like fire. He'd endured it for as long as he could before falling back from the wards and onto the ground, shivering from the after effects.

Harry wiped the sweat from his brow as his jog became a walk. Nagini slid from her resting place, hissing that it was time for him to go back inside. He headed back toward the mansion, his watcher close behind. It still bothered him to no end that the serpent was his keeper, since he knew that she shared some kind of connection with Voldemort, though he was unsure of the depth of it beyond being his familiar. Strangely enough, he preferred her over any number of Death Eaters that could have been chosen for the task.

He entered the mansion, Nagini slithering after him, giving a group of Death Eaters a wide berth as he headed toward the winding staircase leading upstairs. It had been strangely quiet for the last few days around the mansion, unnerving Harry. Voldemort was planning something, he was sure of it, but he wasn't privy to whatever it was. And he hadn't had any visions that would have clued him in either.

Sighing heavily, Harry entered the room, the door sealing behind him. He could feel the wards on the door reset themselves. Eying Nagini briefly as she slithered under the bed into the shadows, Harry turned his back, peeling off his sweaty clothing. Sliding his arms into his robe, he headed toward the bathroom, unaware of the serpent's eyes on him or how it slithered silently after him.

Like his room, the bathroom was on the large size, covered in cream colored tile with tan patterns. On close inspection, they were somewhat in disrepair, but the place was clean and functional, more than what Harry could hope for given his position. Harry ran the waters of the bath, opening a flask to pour a milky fluid into the water that caused it to foam. The tub was nowhere near as nice as the one in the Prefects' bathroom, but was twice the size as an average one. Having a long soak would be rather relaxing. He could almost forget for a few moments that he was a prisoner in Voldemort's home. He could almost pretend that this was all some strange dark dream. Grasping a cloth, Harry began to cleanse himself. A snort of laughter escaped him, echoing off of the tiled walls. At about this time, he'd be preparing to go back to the Dursleys' home. At least he'd be able to forego that this year. It was a horrible thought, but being held in the mansion was a sight better than being at Privet Drive. At least he didn't go to bed hungry here, or was worked like a house elf. Harry smiled faintly. Maybe he'd be able to stay with Sirius after the Aurors came for him.

* * *

Downstairs, Voldemort sat in his library, a book open on his lap as he sat in a comfortable armchair. He frowned slightly as he scanned the pages, distracted. While other plans of his seemed to be falling into place, he hadn't made much headway with the Potter child. He supposed it was to be as expected. The foolish boy probably still harbored hope that the Order would come for him. He'd made every attempt to engage the boy in polite conversation only to be met with silence or brief answers. The boy wore a shuttered expression around him as well, as if he were trying to conceal his thoughts. Silly child. As if he could really manage that. Would the boy rather he hex him instead? Keep him in the cellar they'd altered as a holding cell? Voldemort was sorely tempted to do just that. Keeping the vessel alive that housed a piece of his soul was sufficient. However, he had decided to go down this particular path with the boy and was reluctant to alter a plan once he'd set his mind to it. Voldemort frowned. The Potter child didn't even appreciate having the rare mercies of the Dark Lord bestowed upon him. He supposed he couldn't expect much from a child raised by a bunch of ignorant Muggles.

Reaching out with his mind, Voldemort sought out Nagini. He hadn't wanted to use her as a babysitter for the boy, but she was his most obedient of servants. She was the only one besides him who knew what the child was and why it was important to keep him safe. He slid into her mind smoothly as always. Ah, so the boy had finished with his daily excursion outside and was now… Voldemort blinked at the sight of Harry beginning to strip himself of his sweaty clothing, flinging it absently to the floor. His eyes narrowed slightly as he straightened in his chair, watching Harry slide his pants down narrow hips to let them pool on the floor.

The Dark Lord had expected to find the boy scrawny, but he was actually well-built for a boy his age, albeit small in stature. As Harry grasped his robe and turned, his back to the serpent, Voldemort could see the evidence of scattered old scars and bruises, most having faded with time. He'd seen a few of the beatings that the boy had received in the Potter child's thoughts, felt his fear and humiliation. Regardless of his past cruelty toward the boy, the idea that a filthy Muggle would strike a wizard child was infuriating if not revolting. It was a wonder that Dumbledore allowed such insults upon his boy savior's body. There was no way that the old wizard didn't know what was occurring with the people he had watching Privet Drive from time to time. A necessary evil, the old man probably thought, an acceptable price to keep the boy from his enemies. Voldemort smirked, an idea forming as he watched Harry's pale form with interest as he padded toward the tub to climb in and sink below its waters. He wondered if the Potter child would think otherwise.

* * *

Harry had been enjoying his bath, until he noticed the movement of something out of the corner of his eye. He startled, splashing around in the tub, Nagini's hissing laughter echoing off of the bathroom walls as she slithered out of the shadows, watching him. Harry hastily tried to scoop bubbles backward to cover his body as she slithered to coil onto of the toilet in direct view of his body.

"_What are you doing?_" he asked her in Parseltongue.

She cocked her head to one side. "_Keeping an eye on you__ for master_" she answered.

Harry glared at her, annoyed. He succeeded in gathering enough bubbles to cover the important parts of him. "_Well, I'm not likely to get into trouble in here,_" he answered. "_What does he think I'__ll __do, conjure potions out of bottles of shampoo?_"

"_You can be a very resourceful boy._" Nagini took in the flush that spread across the skin of his chest and cheeks. "_Humans are so strange. Why is your skin so red__ now_"

Harry frowned. "_I don't want people staring at me__ naked__, especially not perverted snakes._"

She rustled her coils, her scales sliding against one another. "_How am I perverted? Humans are so __silly__ with their shame at their nakedness. It's perfectly natural._"

"_Your master is one of those 'silly humans,'_" Harry told her, trying to sink lower in the tub.

Nagini cocked her head again. "_Master __isn't like other humans. He has no shame._"

"_Somehow that doesn't surprise me,_" Harry answered sullenly. "_Do you mind turning around? I want to rinse off._"

Huffing, Nagini complied, swiveling around until her head was looking at a wall. She listened to the sound of water spiraling down the drain until the rush of clean water Harry filled the tub with was heard in the room. "_I'd like humans better if they were more like __M__aster_" she remarked wistfully.

"_You mean__ sociopaths with delusions of grandeur?_" Harry asked as he rinsed his hair.

"_No, bold enough to seek the things that others fear._" Harry squawked when the serpent entered the tub with a splash, her movements causing her upper body to skate along the surface of the water toward him. "_The water is nice and warm now,_" she told him, her tongue flicking out. The boy tasted of fear and embarrassment. She'd never get tired of sensing such things from the boy. Or her Master's pleasure at it echoing through her mind.

Harry splashed water at her in an attempt to get her to swim to the far end of the tub, which succeeded. She hissed something under her breath about rude humans. He sighed. "_First ghosts, now serpents. Why can't I attract normal girls?_"

"_Maybe you're not suited to normal girls,_" Nagini replied, sliding out of the tub to trail water along after her as she slithered across the tiles. She darted out of the way as Harry flung a towel at her, just barely catching her tail as she winded away.

* * *

Harry frowned when not so long later in the afternoon, the door opened to reveal the Dark Lord. Harry hated how he always wore that strangely pleased expression as if it were a mask.

"Come, Harry," the wizard said. "Walk with me."

Harry knew better than to refuse, which led to him following Voldemort down the hallway to the stairs. The older wizard led him to a rather large library, tomes filling the shelves on bookcases along the walls. When they entered, Pettigrew bowed deeply to his master, who barely acknowledged him. Voldemort was explaining to Harry how he could have his pick of the books he liked here, gesturing almost gracefully with one of his hands, when Harry found himself growing more and more angry. He suddenly couldn't stand the man's pleasant expression and his kind words as he put a hand on his shoulder. Knowing full well that it wasn't a good idea to anger the wizard, Harry couldn't help but pull away.

"Stop it!" Harry said, glaring at the man. The fact that Voldemort had the nerve to look affronted infuriated him even more. "Stop pretending like you're some kind of… _friend_! I know what you really are."

Voldemort examined him, his pleasant expression falling somewhat as his eyes narrowed. "Do you now?"

"Yes I do," Harry continued. "You're thoughtless and cruel and I won't forget that, no matter how nice you pretend to be." He folded his arms, stepping backward a few paces. "I don't even know how you can stand behaving that way and being so close to me." Harry rubbed the spot where Voldemort had touched him absently, still feeling the heat of it for some odd reason.

Voldemort gazed at him with quizzical amusement. "And what is that suppose to mean?"

"I know you can't stand it," Harry said. "What's inside of me. The caring, the love, things you'll never understand. Dumbledore said that's what you're afraid of, so don't act as though-"

Voldemort let out a bark of laughter suddenly, startling Harry with it as much as with the strange light that shined in his red eyes. "Dumbledore is a fool, filling your head with nonsense as he always has." He swept closer to the boy, looming over him. "Love merely makes me ill, Harry. It isn't something that I fear. And love is far from benign, despite what Dumbledore may have told you. It is love that makes a jealous man kill his wife or her lover. It is love that makes people slaughter their fellow man in the name of their gods. Love is merely another side of hatred, Harry. But I've no need for love." He leaned down until he was inches from Harry's face. 'Want' suits me just fine when I let it."

Harry stepped back, his eyes widening somewhat with the fear he felt. Voldemort watched him, hugging himself like the child he was as if against the cold. "You're a fool, Harry Potter. You let yourself be swayed by the first person to speak a kind word for you, never realizing that it's all a manipulation. Never realizing that all you are to him is a tool, not the grandson he never had. All his protestations of knowing about love, and the man could care less about you."

Harry's face twisted. "You're wrong," he insisted, his voice full of emotion. "You're _wrong_."

"Am I?" Voldemort asked, his expression sly. "So it's fine that he allows those Muggles to mistreat you though he knows full well what goes on? Is that yet another example of his caring for you? Think, Harry. Do you really think that he doesn't know the extent of it when he has the means to know everything that occurs in that house? He merely thinks that all your pain is worth it to keep his supposed weapon against me safe-"

"You're lying," Harry insisted, even though the dark wizard's words touched on his doubts.

"It's true, and you know it. And if it weren't for me, you'd be there now, locked in your room and starved. Or beaten. Or any number of things I've seen in your thoughts. He can save you from it, and yet he chooses not to. I ask you, Harry, is that love? If it is, then you see why I have no need of it."

Harry's eyes were on the floor. His body trembled slightly with emotion. He shouldn't listen to the man. He knew that this was all some kind of trick on Voldemort's part, and yet the words he spoke seemed to ring true to parts of him. He gasped when he realized that Voldemort was now not in front of him, but had swept around and behind him. Harry stiffened.

"Do you really believe that fool, Harry?" Voldemort murmured to him. "Do you really think that you, a mere child, can stop me? It was your mother's strength that stopped me before. It had nothing to do with you. Even if you were as strong as I am, which can hardly be true, I have years of knowledge and experience that you lack. The only reason that you've survived until now is with the help of others, your so-called friends who are merely grooming you to be a tool for Light. But do you want to know the real reason that you will never defeat me, Harry Potter? You lack the will to do it."

Voldemort gazed over Harry's shoulder at Pettigrew, who cringed at the expression on the dark wizard's face. "Come here, Wormtail."

Pettigrew approached warily, but didn't dare dawdle too long. As he approached the other two wizards, Harry was shocked when Voldemort pushed his own wand into his hand, the Dark Lord's hands sliding around to grip his waist as he leaned close. Harry was as shocked by the dark wizard's behavior as at the feel of the unfamiliar wand, power thrumming through it as it rested in his hand. Part of him thought that he should turn on the wizard with a hex, but he found to his shame that he was too fearful to do just that.

Voldemort's voice warmed his ear. "I may have killed your parents, Harry, but without Pettigrew, I would have never found them. Without him, they'd still be alive today. And your godfather would have never seen the inside of Azkaban, suffered needlessly to the brink of insanity. He's damaged even now, isn't he? All that pain he's responsible for." Voldemort let his voice trail off before ordering. "Kill him."

"But, Master!" Pettigrew exclaimed.

Voldemort ignored him, trying to egg Harry on. "Don't you love them, Harry? Don't you want to avenge all that they suffered? If you truly love them, you could kill for them." He raised Harry's hand with his own to point the wand at a cowering Pettigrew, his other hand sliding around Harry's body to rest warmly on his chest. "Do you need help, Harry? Don't you remember the words? Just two words, Harry. It's so simple" He felt the boy shiver. "No? Not even a _Crucio_" He allowed the boy's hand to drop, and Pettigrew let go the breath he was holding.

Voldemort's hand slipped down Harry's arm to slide over his hand, retrieving his wand from a trembling fist. "How do you expect to stop me when you can't even kill Pettigrew? Because that is what you must do, Harry Potter. You have to be willing to kill to stop me. I won't just surrender to you or Dumbledore. You'll have to utterly destroy me." He leaned closer to murmur in a low voice, "You have to be willing to do anything to win. Even kill. Until you are able to do that, you are of no use to anyone. Until you are able to do that, you will always lose."

Harry cursed himself as he felt a stinging at his eyes as the Dark Lord swept away, Pettigrew trailing nervously behind him. He'd been immobilized, unable to do anything though the man's wand had been in his grasp. He hadn't even tried to hex the man. He doubted he would have been successful, no doubt the dark wizard was probably expecting it, but he hadn't. He felt ill as realization dawned on him. They wanted him to become a killer. All of them, everyone who'd ever looked at him with awe because he was The Boy Who Lived, even Dumbledore. Harry gritted his teeth. Voldemort was right in a way. They all looked at him as a tool, as the key to defeating the dark wizard. Harry gazed down at his hands, unnerved by the way they trembled slightly. But could he really kill, even if it was to protect others, to protect himself? Could he really cast the spell that Death Eaters seemed to cast as if it were second nature to them? Harry was disturbed by the fact that he wasn't sure. Maybe he really was weak. And compared to the Dark Lord, he was. Harry thought of the man's poise, his seemingly unshakable confidence and determination, compared it to his own questioning uncertainty. Maybe what he needed was to become strong.

TBC


End file.
